


Looking for Love

by plastics



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Marriage of Convenience - to win first prize in TV show, Pining, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29168487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastics/pseuds/plastics
Summary: Georgia is very aware of the meta experience she has plunged herself into. Telling herself that the only reason she signed up for the show was for a free vacation and publicity would practically damn her to falling in love with J.J., so she went in with heart open.She still wasn't expecting Angela.
Relationships: Female Contestant in Reality Romance TV Show/Fellow Female Contestant, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11
Collections: Shotgun Wedding Flash Exchange





	Looking for Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



> If you're a reality TV aficionado, _Looking for Love_ borrows a bit from The Bachelor and Big Brother, in order to make the timeline work how I want it to.

It’d be unfair to say that J.J. isn’t as advertised. Is he the goofy, sensitive, thoughtful that the commercials and magazine placements and promo for  _ Looking For Love _ are selling him as? Half the time, he’s pretty good at acting like it. The other half of the time—

“Hell yes!” he crows as the ball—the biggest, reddest one he could find—reaches the end of the lane. “Another strike in the box for J.J.!”

And he probably could get away with it, too, if he didn’t then stick his tongue out and make eye contact with anyone who would look, eyebrows raised like  _ See? See what I did there? _

“John, please. This show airs at eight,” said of the executive producers, who proved time and time again to be a pretty boring individual for essentially being a PG-friendly pimp.

“What? Georgia likes it. She thinks I’m funny,” J.J. replies as he slides back onto the bench and throws an arm around Georgia and busses a kiss against her temple. The whole place is blacklit, neon and bright colors, a sort of obvious nostalgia trigger, even though the bowling alley Georgia grew up with had been all sterile white lights and pale pine. Once this game is over, they’ll go to the arcade, J.J. will win big, and they’ll exchange all his tickets for candy, over which Georgia will talk about her relationship with her brother, who is her best friend, and they’ll both agree that they want at least two kids, to start.

Georgia laughs gamely for the camera before she says, “Better than your balls causing a split in the box, right?”

_ “Exactly.” _

She really does like J.J. He doesn’t take himself too seriously, and he’s not a liar, as much as the show’s kayfabe allows it. It’s probably why Georgia has made it as far as she has—he’s not ready to get married, and there’s no way Georgia could ever marry him. 

🌹🌹🌹 

Georgia is very aware of the meta experience she has plunged herself into. It’s kind of impossible not to—being a divorce lawyer and then, once she burned herself clear through, a trendier-than-anticipated agony aunt brought forth every jagged corner of love and dumped it right into her lap. She hows how fundamentally dangerous the road a rushed courtship and an even faster engagement is. But she also knows how predictable people are on a fundamental level. Telling herself that the only reason she signed up for the show was for a free vacation and publicity would practically damn her to falling in love with J.J., which would truly have been a mess that resulted in her overeager ass getting sent home in the first week.

So, really, she wasn’t so disillusioned as to not be a little disappointed when it became clear that under that first brush of chemistry, there was no romantic future between her and J.J.

“So please please  _ please  _ don’t worry about me. There is nothing there between us. Just do your thing,” Georgia assures. Still, Angela groans and rolls across the bed onto her back. Back in California, they’d had a whole mansion to hang out in, but in Paris they just (“just”) had their hotel rooms. The producers probably intended it to have a more intimate feel. But probably not like this. Georgia forces herself to refocus on her notebook—they’re not allowed any access to the outside world yet, and it’s forced her to revert back to writing things out longhand. In all honesty, she’s never been much of a Francophile, but she’s been feeling inspired lately. Worst case scenario, she’ll have a backlog of blogposts if she feels like taking an off-camera vacation after all this.

“It just sucks!” Angela says. “At least if I hated you, I could feel better about winning.”

“I don’t think this is supposed to be that kind of competition.”

_ “Everything _ is that kind of competition.”

Georgia laughs, but it feels hollow—she does feel like she’s losing, just not the way she’s supposed to.

Angela had been both been a complete surprise and an inevitability. They’d met the first night, during the night-long parade of beautiful women. Georgia arrived late enough for Angela’s face to be pink from free champagne, it’d been like getting struck. All she could think was  _ of course.  _ Of course this show, built to make everyone’s fantasies a reality, would utterly fail on the man front but still manage to dig up Georgia’s dream woman.

And that was before they even spoke (her eyes widening as she said, “Like,  _ the  _ Auntie Dove?” “Taub, but, yeah.") and Georgia got to know her (“It’s just a semi-pro league, I’m not, like, Delle Donne or anything.” “Girl, I flinch if someone so much as tosses a pen at me, don’t undersell yourself.”) and the harder parts of being on this show revealed itself (“I just don’t get the point of being so  _ mean,” _ Angela whispered into Georgia neck, trying to hide the sound and the tears from the cameras tucked into every room). 

Watching Angela and J.J. get closer has been near impossible to bear, but after some of shit that’s gone down over the past three months, Georgia’s still glad it came down to the two of them. That they got the time. But she has no delusions about where the finale is heading. None of them do.

Georgia doesn’t let herself overthink reaching out and smoothing a stray curl out of Angela’s face. Gray eyes meet hers for a long, quiet moment, until she feels forced to blurt out, “Would it be weird if I was one of your bridesmaids?”

Angela squawks, turns away, closes her eyes.  _ “Stop.” _

🌹🌹🌹 

Instead of a finale, there are rumors.

Georgia’s always felt like she had a good read of J.J. Knew what to expect from him. It kept him incapable of hurting her.

But during that production meeting, she’s  _ pissed. _

“What the  _ fuck,  _ J.J.?” she’s yelling. “There are fucking  _ days  _ left, and you couldn’t keep it in your goddamn pants?”

“I’ve never been to Paris before. What’s the problem with wanting to see the sights?” J.J. whines, and if his whole manchild schtick had ever been charming, it certainly isn’t now.

“The problem is that you signed a contract specifically stating that you wouldn’t be sampling any local fare or sneaking off in the middle of the night during the extent of this show,” responds Mary Beth, the show’s executive producer. She seems exhausted but sharp in comparison to her assistant, who’s refreshing Twitter in a daze beside her.

“I didn’t even sample! I danced! What’s wrong with dancing?”

“… The fact you’re on a show, supposed to be getting engaged in thirty-six hours? Hello?”

“Oh, please, Georgia,” J.J. scoffs. “You of all people know what this show is about.”

“And maybe that’d be fine if you were proposing to me. But you weren’t. You’re fucking over  _ Angela. _ ”

Mary Beth interrupts gently before J.J. can turn his scowl into a real response. “Alright, now, I think we can all agree that several mistakes have been made here. While I’m not unsympathetic to that, I still have to do my job, which is to remind you all that this is a job, and we still have a show to finish. John got paid ahead of time, but Georgia, Angela, I can promise you that crashing and burning during the finale, even if it’s not your fault, is not how you maximize your post-production compensation. That’s just a fact.”

“Oh, I don’t know, given how the last three months have gone, I’m surprised you didn’t just lock the three of us in a room, throw a Page Six in, and turn that into a record-breaker,” Georgia says, but the energy draining away quickly. She sinks back in her chair and glances at Angela. She hasn’t said a thing this whole meeting. She’s barely looked up from the floor.

Georgia’s heart breaks again.

Mary Beth continues as if she hadn’t spoken. “At this point, I don’t believe a proposal from John would be well-received. I believe we have two options. We can pivot to some sort of rehabilitation arc where we make a show of getting to the roots of John’s immaturity—”

“Hey!”

“—or you two girls could get engaged.”

Angela’s head snaps up.  _ “What?”  _ Georgia says.

“What am I supposed to do then?” J.J. says, pouting.

“You apologize as sincerely as you’re capable, then we ship your ass back to America,” Mary Beth says. “But the girls’ friendship is an angle we’ve been pushing hard all season,” Mary Beth says. “This may not be quite the arrangement we imagined, but we knew it’d work out for a dramatic conclusion one way or another. And while obviously a genuine love match is always the goal of  _ Looking for Love,  _ sometimes shit happens.”

“Shit happens,” Georgia echoes, “so why not just just throw in some gay gals for giggles.”

“Unless you’re opposed to such a thing…?” Mary Beth asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Obviously not,” Georgia snaps. Her heart is racing in her chest. Fuck, if anyone knew how deeply unopposed she is.

Angela clears his throat, then speaks for the first time since that morning. “I’d be down.”

“Excellent! This is going to be a bit more scripted that I usually prefer, but everyone in this room is an adequate enough actor. We can get this done. Taylor, get Lunzi on the phone and—” Mary Beth says, already rising from her seat as the assistant snaps out their hypnosis to start pulling out papers and sending out messages. 

“Wait!” Georgia says, and all the eyes turn to her. She’s been told before that she has a good poker face but right now she feels seconds away from losing her mind. Even with intentional openness, she never actually believed she’d be the one getting engaged at the end of all this, and to Angela—Angela, who is staring at her, too, face open in every way Georgia’s not. She switches gears, “Are we to expect that J.J. is still the only one of us being compensated as the season’s star?”

Mary Beth pauses.

_ “Bro,”  _ J.J. groans.

“Expectations for contestants are made very clear in the contracts you both signed before the start of the season,” Mary Beth says, clearly and carefully.

“Are we not here because of contract violations? You said yourself that you’ve been editing the show to more centrally featuring myself and Angela,” Georgia says, nerves settling as she settles into a more familiar arena. She raises an eyebrow. “Please, Mary Beth, we both know I’m not that out of practice.”

Mary Beth sighs, then sits back down into her chair.

🌹🌹 

_ FADE BACK FROM COMMERCIAL _

_ [A man and a woman sit on opposite sides of a room. The man’s eyes are watery but his face remains unblemished. The woman is staring out the window, hands fiddling with a black box.] _

**JOHN:** Will you please say something?

**ANGELA:** … Thank you.

_ [Cut to a look of confusion on John’s face.] _

**ANGELA:** No, genuinely, thank you. This is probably the best thing you could have done. For both of us. I think my eyes are finally open to what my heart truly wants.

_ [They exchange hugs. John still looks confused as Angela exits the room. The camera follows her out. She looks serene as she looks down to her hands once more, then goes further down the hallway. She opens a door to reveal the final cast member packing her bags, who looks surprised by the interruption but smiles freely anyway.] _

**GEORGIA:** Hey, girl! What’s up?

ANGELA: Hi. Let’s go.

[Georgia’s smile flickers as she registers the look on Angela’s face, then the camera over her shoulder.]

**GEORGIA:** Where?

**ANGELA:** Anywhere.

_ [She steps forward and holds out her hand. Georgia doesn’t hesitate to meet her. _

_ When they reappear, it’s laughing, onto a sunlit balcony, the Eiffel Tower blurry in the background. The two women are no longer dressed in sleepwear. Instead, they have changed into simple yet elegant gowns. Their hands are still entwined.  _

_ They come to a stop and turn towards each other. Angela claims a second hand. Neither seem capable of smiling any larger.] _

**ANGELA:** Georgie.

**GEORGIA:** Angie.

_ [They can, indeed, smile larger.] _

**ANGELA:** I knew coming into this show that this was going to be an experience of a lifetime, and it has been! Even being here, I’d never been out of the country before—but you know that. You’ve been here with me every step of the way, through the fun days and the hard days. It always made me feel so happy and excited and safe knowing I’d be coming back to home to you. And I hope I’ve been able to give you some of the same comfort.

**GEORGIA [subtitled]:** You know you have.

**ANGELA:** Right. Thank you. So. Obviously we both came on this show to find love. And I realized today that I for sure have. 

_ [Angela drops Georgia’s hands to pat at her thighs, then her right hands slips into a pocket.] _

**GEORGIA:** Oh my god, it has pockets.

**ANGELA:** Pockets! But does it have enough room for me to—okay. Okay. I got this.

_ [Angela pulls the dress up to give her legs more room, then kneels down on one knee in front of Georgia. The other woman's eyes widen as her hands come up to cover her mouth.] _

**ANGELA:** Georgia, you have made me unbelievably happy these past few months. I don’t know if I’ve ever met someone who I've gotten so comfortable with, trusted so much, so quickly. And, god, it feels ridiculous to even have to say how beautiful, smart and determined you are, but you  _ are,  _ and I want to spend the rest of my life basking in it.

_ [Finally, she raises another small box, white this time.] _

**ANGELA:** Will you allow me the honor of marrying me?

_ [Georgia, with tears streaming down her face, drops to her knees, chanting  _ yes, yes, yes _ until their lips come together. _

_ The shot transitions; the engagement is playing on a large screen. We zoom out to see a stage surrounded by a studio audience. John in a seat to the left of Mary Beth, and Angela and Georgia sitting together on the right. Their legs are pressed together, arms tangled, smiles wide.] _

**MARY BETH:** John. How does seeing these two women, both of whom you said you were falling for, instead falling for each other?

**JOHN:** With complete honesty? I’m so happy for them both. I want nothing for the best of them. 

**MARY BETH:** That’s why you snuck out that night? Because you wanted the best for them?

_ [The crowd boos. Angela laughs.] _

**ANGELA:** Stop, stop.

**MARY BETH:** What about you, Angela? Did you not see that night as some sort of betrayal?

**ANGELA:** Not at all. I did care deeply about him—I truly believe all three of us are going to be friends for a long time—but I truly believe that his actions allowed both of us to take an important look inward. Maybe J.J. realized by then that he wasn’t ready for this sort of commitment, and I realized that it wasn’t him I wanted to commit to.

**GEORGIA:** And, clearly, J.J. wasn’t the only one around who could appreciate the heart of a beautiful woman.

_ [Georgia smiles sharply, implying that heart wasn’t the only thing worth appreciating. There’s an approving woop from the audience.] _

🌹

_ Looking For Love _ sets them up with a decent apartment in L.A. in order to maintain the illusion. It’s a good setup. Georgia’s never considered her the California sort, but she’s considering letting her lease back east lapse.

Most of the time, it’s big enough that two people can avoid each other—not that it really matters, her left hand still feels heavy even after a week—but not when they have joint obligations and a rare summer storm forces them back home, clogging the entryway.

Angela clears her throat. “So. I was thinking of trying out this pasta dish for a few days. Would you want some?”

“Sure,” Georgia says. 

It’s not like she purposely tries to be rude, most of the time. Being back in the real world is just—different. That’s not really a surprise, either, but it’s still taking time to deprogram herself from the constant feeling of being watched, to pressure to perform romance and love, and she’d never even thought to prepare herself for a  _ fiancée _ _. _

Angela’s a really good cook. Like, not just competent, but  _ good. _ Georgia hadn’t known that before the apartment. Back at the house, they just had catering most of the time, or comped meals at restaurants that wanted to be on TV.

She lets Georgia chop some garlic and shallots. It feels like busywork, but Georgia still does it. It feels domestic. Cosy. Something in Georgia’s chest clenches. She shouldn’t get used to this. Six months is nothing, compared to what she’d want if she allowed herself to imagine it.

Georgia clears her throat, searches for something to say, grabs onto the first thing then cringes even as she asks, “Do you actually think we’re going to be friends with J.J.? Like, even once we’re free from the LFL circuit?”

“Sure. Why not?” Angela says. She’s mixing together some sort of sauce, an array of spices and juices arrayed around her.

“I don’t know. Broken hearts?”

Angela glances at Georgia, her expression disbelieving. “Did he break  _ your  _ heart?”

“No. But I didn’t want to marry him.”

“Well,” Angela says, face falling carefully flat as she turns back towards evening out the teaspoon in her hand. “Neither did I.”

“But you  _ said  _ you did,” Georgia presses, unable to help herself. And Angela had, not even in the way that the show demands that they all want to get married, desperately, as soon as possible. There’d been an edge of honesty in Angela that made Georgia feel so soft for her, that made her want to make sure Angela got everything she could want. Even if that had meant J.J.

“I wanted to get married. Want. Generally,” Angela corrects. “And when I signed up for the show, it felt like, what the hell, some random guy would probably be just as good as the last few I’d dated. And, like—I don’t know. I’m tired of being single or in relationships that go nowhere. I do like J.J. I don’t think I would have hated trying to make it work with him. But I wasn’t ever in love with him.”

Georgia lets the silence swallow them again. It’s true that she’s never known Angela to be a liar. Granted, that only covers that last four months of their lives, but it still feels like Georgia  _ knows  _ her, deeply, even in this awkward step-too-far land they’ve found themselves in since they got on the plane back from France and realized  _ they’re engaged. _ It was aired on TV. Millions of strangers watched; by sheer math, at least a million people believe they’re deeply in love and another million think they’re a pair of scammers covering a cable television’s shows ass. This is their engagement. They’d never kissed before the show. They haven’t since.

The pan goes on the stovetop. Oil heats. The garlic goes in the pan.

Maybe neither of them are as romantic as the versions of themselves they played for  _ Looking for Love. _ That’s fine. Georgia’s actually quite fond of the hint of a life they have here, even if it’s just for now, just for show, just stolen moments before they both return to hiding in their individual bedrooms.

But Angela—she’s more earnest that Georgia. Not naive or delusional, but she never lied as freely as Georgia did. Her heart thuds dangerously. Since that morning in the hotel, she’s only allowed herself to think of this arrangement in terms of commitments and compensation. Georgia does everything perfectly, including playing her role on some dating show. 

Angela would have just gone home, if she hadn’t wanted to do this. Georgia suddenly, deeply knows this is true. She’d wanted to propose to Georgia. She hadn’t even thought about asking for a pay raise first.

The barstool squeaks a little as Georgia pushes back. Angela watches her as she approaches. Georgia can’t read her face. She wonders if Angela can read hers. 

Georgia steps close, gently catches Angela’s arm. They’re warm and strong beneath her hands.

“Would you,” Georgia starts, feeling more awkward than she has since middle school, even though she’s  _ engaged,  _ “perhaps. Be open to trying to make it work with me?”

“Are you?” Angela challenges, so Georgia leans forward and kisses, no too hard but soundly, trying to pour all the  _ yes, yes, let’s make this real, let’s make this ours _ beating in her chest from her mouth to Angela’s. Angela grabs back, just as hard.

Eventually, Angela jerks back. “Fuck!” and Georgia has a moment of concern before she says, “The alliums!”

She pushes past Georgia, and it’s not until she’s gone that Georgia starts to smell burning. “Oh.”

“Fuck,” Angela says again, turning off the burner. What were maybe supposed to be browned had taken a turn around towards blackened.

“… Do you want me to start chopping again?” Georgia asks. Her head feels light. She’d probably run to the grocery store barefoot right now if Angela asks.

Angela bites her lip. “Maybe we could just order in?”

“Kinda sucks to make someone come out in the rain,” Georgia says, but it’s a weird argument with Angela still looking at her like maybe food isn’t the first thing on her mind anymore.

“We can tip them a hundred percent. We can afford it. My entertainment lawyer got me a sweet chunk of change off my last deal,” Angela says, and she’s reaching out this time, for Georgia’s left hand, looking at the ring there, and, yeah, dinner can wait. 

They’ll have time.


End file.
